


I Just Love The Kind Of Woman (who can walk over a man)

by FakePlastikTrees



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post Season 2, introducing the fourth good girl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-20 15:11:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19994278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FakePlastikTrees/pseuds/FakePlastikTrees
Summary: In which Rio is a little bit dramatic and Beth is expecting him anyway.This is a post 2x13 fic. I mean. That's it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A special shout out to alloeqat for the encouragement. It came at a great time, so thank you! <3 
> 
> Title is from the song "The Night Josh Tillman Came To Our Apt." by Father John Misty. It really makes me laugh and I was listening to it while writing. It's not that deep.

Elizabeth Irene Boland learned that she could keep a secret at a very young age. The discovery of her greatest talent came about due to necessity. It made her uneasy to lie, though it wasn’t so much the lying itself, but that she was so good at it. She told herself it was survival mode. Some people lifted cars off their trapped children, and Beth lied to keep her and her baby sister from being separated by child services. She’d done the research one afternoon in the library, Annie’s green sickly snot smeared across her sweater as she pored over whatever she could find on the subject. Eight-year-old Annie slept under the book-filled table having finally settled after a particularly difficult cold that had lasted well over a week.

Annie was young enough and cute enough that she’d probably be placed in a nice home, but Beth was older, almost an adult, and families liked babies. They’d be separated and probably lose contact. No, the risk of someone calling child services definitely would not do. 

So, she lied. To their neighbors, about her mother being at the market, or her father working late and most definitely not drowning his sorrows in the bar downtown.

Beth lied about why she couldn’t do a lot of things other girls her age did. Things like slumber parties and outings to the mall or to the movies; the few group hangs she did manage to make it out to were frequently chaperoned by Annie. Even when Beth and Dean started dating, their dates were mostly spent with Annie flopped down between them, chatting endlessly about one thing or another. Otherwise their dates took place very late at night, after Annie had fallen asleep and Beth could sneak out quietly.

Before she met Ruby, Beth could count all her friends and family on one hand. It wasn’t that she wasn’t good with people. She was great with people. She was charming and likeable, and she had no problem socializing during school hours. It was afterwards that presented some roadblocks.

She used to think she’d never lied to Ruby but now she thinks maybe she has been for a long time, if only by omission, considering she’s only now in her 40’s realizing that her marriage might as well be a discarded decomposing body on the side of the road. She supposes that was for survival too because if she had admitted to Ruby that she was this unhappy before she could admit it to herself, she would have never found the way out of the deep depressive state the realization would have put her in. It’s a good thing she can lie to herself just as well as she can lie to others. Beth likes to think the secrets she keeps are less about her, and more about protecting those she loves. She’s got four little ones to think about now and soon they won’t be so little anymore however, so her secrets need to be especially guarded now if she’s going to continue to keep them. And it’s not like she has all that many, but they are substantial.

The secret about her marriage being a disaster for instance, now exactly a well-kept one these days, has surprisingly enough become the lightest one to carry, and she’s sure that eventually she’ll be able to just set it down somewhere and let it dissolve into the air, so she doesn’t count that one as a liability any longer.

Her other secret, the real one, one about where she gets her money? Well, that one she shares with Annie and Ruby–and Rosie, Billy’s mom from the farmer’s market who seems to be a savant when it comes to printing fake cash. Rosie is good at keeping secrets too. In fact, it took Beth months to realize that she was hiding a collection of colorful tattoos under those long sleeves and sweaters. Beth trusted her to share in on that secret, even if Ruby and Annie weren’t so sure about her just yet. 

The following secret down on the list is sort of connected to another though she refuses to fully admit to it fully–they both have to do with Rio. 

Annie and Ruby look at her sometimes like they know, like they have an idea about her feelings–her very complicated feelings for their former boss, and just what level of damage shooting him has done to her psychologically. They look at her like they wonder how being very obviously invested in him in more ways than one collided with her need to protect herself when he dragged her to his empty apartment that night. 

“I mean, if your head were a house on Fixer Upper, it would be a gut job!” Annie had affectionately pointed out to her the one and only time they discussed the events of that night honestly. Beth had cried, quietly for the most part, the tears rolling out as they passed around a bottle of whiskey late one night at Ruby’s place. 

“I’m fine,” Beth had assured them both, and Annie had scoffed. Ruby had given her a pained look, but they dropped it. 

Beth wasn’t fine and that much was obvious to everyone, but secret keeping came with the meticulous ability to lie to herself just as convincingly as she did to others. And she was almost buying it, that she was fine. That is until her nights at the apartment came around, when Dean had the kids, and it was quiet save for the noise outside.

Because Beth felt things for Rio. She had. And she thought, despite all the bravado, on some level, he had cared about her a little bit at least. Green as she may be at quite literally everything relating to him, she could feel it. She couldn’t blame him for denying it to her or himself, because she’d been doing that since the day she learned his name, pretending she didn’t give a shit.

With all that denial, the guilt feels all the more painful. It keeps her awake sometimes, the memories of that night. She could recount it all like ghostly evasions of her senses. She recalls the rough fabric of the hood against her cheeks, the chill in the air when she was pulled out of the car, the smell of blood and sweat in Rio’s apartment; hers, his, Turner’s–the way she shook violently outside his building and then emptied the contents of her stomach into a nearby bush before walking home in a daze for who knows how long. And then the cold, sharp dread knowing that if he died, she’d done it. She’d finally done what he wanted her to do. She’d killed someone.

Some nights at the apartment she shares with Dean, when it’s too quiet and her thoughts are too loud, she walks to the bar two blocks down–used to anyway.

It didn’t have much of a selection, or much of a crowd for that matter, this bar. It was mostly attended by construction workers from the new development nearby, and the occasional group of suits out for happy hour celebrating one thing or another. It was perfect for what Beth needed, and what she needed was to quiet her mind, which kept calling her a murderer, a fact she couldn’t refute. 

The first time she saw him, he was standing outside the bar, watching her through the window, hands tucked into his coat pockets, beanie down over his ears, his breath visible in the brisk winter as “I Want You To Want Me” by Cheap Trick played on the jukebox.

Beth was drunk, but definitely not drunk enough for aparations, and while she knew it was impossible that it was him, somewhere deep down it felt...it felt like the right thing. Of course he was there. She’d blinked and he was gone, and there was the urge to run outside and find him but she fought it. When she’d evened out her breathing and Tony, the nice young bartender that always knew when to leave her alone, walked over and asked if she wanted a refill, she looked up and something snapped her back to life.

Beth fucked Tony in the supply room that night. Of course she could never return there, but that was fine. She had a feeling she wouldn't be needing to drink her weight in alcohol anymore. 

She sees him again a few times after that; sometimes sitting in a car while she’s running errands with the kids, other times, while she’s out with Rosie and the girls–they meet in public places now to keep up appearances–and sometimes, she can swear he’s been in her home while she’s out. It makes her sick, how imminent threat excites her, because that’s what he is, and that’s what this all means, all this stalking like she’s his prey. She hates how keeping it a secret makes it feel precious and intimate, and illicit all at once. She hates how it makes her throb between her legs. 

It’s weeks of this before they exchange words and even then, it’s brief. 

She’s just read a text message from Rosie when she catches a glimpse of him in the rear-view mirror; standing there, comfortable lounging against a black Jaguar, and she pauses for a moment, the residual smile from reading about Rosie’s unfortunate mishap with a new printer still on her face when he sees she’s seen him. 

The lapels of her coat blow open as she makes her way down her driveway, stopping short of hitting the road. 

A minivan zooms by after a moment of them staring each other down, and Beth finally speaks.

“Hi.”

“Hey,” he says. 

It isn’t so much that she’s wearing a dress and it’s chilly for spring; it’s that voice. She hasn’t heard that voice in so long, and despite expecting it, she’s not prepared for the chill that makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand on edge. 

“So you’re alive.”

He smirks at that, eyes devoid of any warmth he might have had for her in the past. 

“And kicking.” He nods at her Volvo, parked behind her, and asks, “That new?” 

“It’s pre-owned.” 

It’s not. She doesn’t know why she lies about it. She worked hard for that car–but maybe that’s why she lies. She doesn’t want him to know just how well business is going. 

He huffs out a laugh that tells her he’s not buying it. 

“We should talk, you and me,” she tells him and she clocks the brief twitch of surprise on his face before he masks it with something less forgiving. Before he has a chance to threaten her, she adds, “You know, when you’re done trying to intimidate me. We should have a proper talk.”

Even from across the street she can he see that rock of his jaw, that barely there self-restraint, the overwhelming urge to either shoot her or--just or. She knows it’s only pissing him off to see her so self-assured. And she knows she’s selling it despite the way her heart is racing, despite her nerves. 

“I know we owe you--”

“No, shit you owe me,” he cuts in, then pushes himself off the car before swiftly pulling the driver door open. “I’ll find you.” 

And then he’s gone, and she’s got no doubt that he will in fact find her. 

Beth waits until his car is no longer visible to go inside the house. It’s her turn with the kids and she has about an hour before Dean brings them back from their respective after school engagements and it’s an hour she’s going to have to have to utilize to figure out what her next move is going to be because like it or not, she’s set Rio’s little revenge in motion without so much as a primary plan, let alone a backup plan–perhaps not the smartest move, but it’s better than sitting around, waiting as he gets his fill of torturing her forma distance.

She almost calls Ruby, and is  _ this _ close to texting Annie, but she can’t do it. She can’t drag them into this for plenty of reasons most people would deem rational and logical, but mostly--this feels too much like giving something up and as fucked up as she knows it is, she’s not ready to do that just yet. So, instead, she calls the only person she knows won’t ask too many questions. 

“So, you want me to help you wash cash without your girls knowing. Is that what you’re saying?” 

“Yes,” Beth replies. 

Rosie, in her best PTA mom cashmere sweater, and her long dark hair in a ponytail, leans back in her seat at Beth’s dining table and smiles. “Damn, Beth. Didn’t think it was like that between you guys.” 

“It’s not,” she quickly replies. “This is–it’s complicated, but this is for them too. I just--the less they know, the better. And you already know nothing about it, so.” 

“Okay,” Rosie says after a beat. “How much do you need?” 

“Three hundred to be safe.” 

“Okay. We can clean that in a couple months if we really crack down.” 

Beth rakes in a breath and then leans forward to refill Rosie’s glass with ice-tea. “I kind of need it sooner than that.” 

“How much sooner?” 

“In the next few days or so.” 

Rosie throws her head back and laughs then, really laughs, and then pushes forward in her seat. “You’re fucking nuts, do you know that? We don’t even have half of that printed  _ now _ . Not to mention it’s just you and me washing it–where do you even think we’re going to turn that big a profit that quickly? This is not Wolf of Wall Street. We’re small potatoes, baby.” 

“I was...hoping we could use one of your old contacts. You said a couple of them owed you favors.”

And then Rosie is regarding Beth in a way that makes her think she’s maybe overstepped. Rosie hasn’t volunteered much information on her past, but Beth gets the idea that it involved some important, if not dangerous, people.

“Yeah, I wasn’t planning on cashing in so soon,” Rosie says, tapping her glass with her index finger.

Beth stares back, opens her mouth to defend herself but she’s got nothing except, “I’ll owe you.” 

Rosie watches her for a while and then sinks back into the chair with a big sigh. “I can’t make any promises. Let me make a few calls.” 

“Thank you.” 

Beth stares back expectedly and Rosie laughs.

“What?  _ Now _ ?” 

Beth gives her an apologetic look, but smiles when Rosie pulls out her cellphone and starts dialing; it takes no longer than 20 minutes of Beth watching her jot down names and addresses. 

When Rosie hangs up, she looks at Beth and asks, “So, do you have a decent cocktail dress or do we need to go shopping?” 

It’s three nights in a row in three different hotel suites, surrounded by men dropping way too much money on a poker game buy-ins that run through to sunrise. On the third, the strappy blue dress Beth is wearing feels far too tight and too low cut for just how tired she feels, but they walk out at 6 am with just over $150,000 between them, leaving them with well over a $90,000 profit. 

Over coffee and pancakes at a rundown 24-hour diner, Beth caves and tells Rosie everything; about Rio, about the money, and about Dean and the fake cancer, and the sex, and the shooting–these feelings she can’t sort, and all this guilt–something about being up three nights in a row makes her spill everything until she’s crying into her coffee and Rosie’s slid over in their booth to comfort her. 

“Wow.”

“What?” Beth asks when she’s sniffling with her head on her shoulder. 

“Your boobs are incredible.” 

This makes Beth laugh as she dabs her at her tear-stained face with a paper napkin. 

“I’m serious. Forget the money. Wear this, he’ll forget all about it. We’ll take all the kids to greece or something.” 

It’s another two weeks before he shows up at the apartment Beth shares with Dean. She won’t even ask him how he got inside the building without a key. 

Beth stops just short of reaching him, keys at hand, purse in the other. She doesn’t say anything and neither does he, and her heart is racing when she opens the door and he follows her inside. 

He’s close behind her, she can feel him, al that heat and overwhelming intensity. 

She starts to ask if he wants a drink but then she’s pinned to the door and they’re pushing each other’s coats off.

His lips trail down her neck, his teeth marking her as he sinks lower, his hands on her waist, her hips, and up her dress–her underwear snaps off easily before he sinks to the floor and he pulls one of her legs over his shoulder while his mouth finds her cunt. Beth finds the doorknob for balance while she, with her other hand, braces the top of his head, her nails digging in a little when he fucks her with his tongue. 

She’s not about to pretend she doesn't want this. They both know that along with the ugliness that’s coming, there’s this, which isn’t exactly, pretty but it’s them, and it’s what they have, so Beth pulls him closer and grinds her pussy against his mouth, angling for that sweet spot where uses the flat of his tongue and,  _ oh she’s missed that _ . 

And then she’s close,  _ she’s so close _ . He must know it because the bastard stops suddenly. Holding her leg up at his hip when he stands again, he keeps his mouth just close enough that she could reach it if she leaned forward, but all she can concentrate on is the determined look in his eyes as he unbuckles his belt with his free hand and she bites her lip in anticipation.

It’s quick then, all sharp thrusts and heavy panting–Rio’s grasp on the back of her neck is just tight enough and she can feel his fingers digging sharply into her thigh. It feels like just enough until their eyes meet and  _ that _ is too much. She hadn’t thought of this, looking him in the eye knowing what she did to him, what they did to each other, and knowing that they can’t seem to stop. So she leans in toward his lips to get away from the weight of it, but he’s not having that, and why should he? 

The hand on the back of her head slides upwards to fist into her hair, tugging in order to force her to look at him, and she almost hates him. For always having the upper hand and for pulling the rug out from under her when she thinks she’s got it–for thinking he knows her so well, for lifting the lid off the parts of herself she didn’t know she was keeping packed up so tightly that there’s no way she can stuff them all back inside now.

Mostly she wants to hate him for fucking her like he’s missed her while looking at her like he’d like nothing more than to destroy her. 

_ That’s fine _ , she thinks.  _ He can try _ . 

Returning the sentiment with what she hopes is a mirrored stare, she relishes in the little sounds in the back of his throat that have grown a little louder, just a bit more pronounced with every angled thrust of his hips. 

If anyone were to walk by her door, Beth is sure they would hear them; the soft steady thud against the door, his stifled grunts, the little moans she’s having a difficult time holding back now.

It stings a little where he’s pulling her hair, and the opposition of sensations is rushing her quickly toward release, but she wants more. More than anything, she needs to kiss him, she needs that final act of sincerity before the moment passes and they’re back to unsettled business, but he’s reluctant to give her that, pulling her head sharply back when she attempts it.

Grasping at the collar of his shirt, she tugs and then finally grabs the back of Rio’s neck when that doesn’t work, forcing his lips against her own–she’s quick to prompt them open with a sharp nip that makes him hiss. 

His hand drops form her hair in favor of her thigh as he lifts Beth off the floor and then all but slams her back against the door, drawing a gasp against his mouth, and then a loud keening sound as she comes unexpectedly and her body trembles through it, his own release stretching hers out until she’s grabbing at his shirt of purchase, pulling the fabric when the rolling waves don’t stop.

They don’t stop until they do–until he’s breathless and she’s flushed.

She’s walking away from him as soon as he sets her down, hands pushing her dress down over her hips as she makes her way to the bathroom and she can hear him zip up his pants. 

From the bathroom door, she stops, and without looking at him says, “I have the money we owe you. Let me get it.” 

It’s his bitter chuckle that makes her turn around. 

He’s slipping on his coat when he replies, “However much you think it is, triple it. We’ll have a  _ proper _ talk about it some other time.”

She swallows her anger down and bites her cheek before asking,“When will that be?”

He shrugs. “When I’m ready. You hold your breath until I call, okay?” 

And then he’s gone, leaving Beth feeling both sated and used up–and what was she expecting exactly? That they’d fuck and it would all be okay just as long as she paid him back?

She’s so angry she could cry, though she refuses to.

Knowing more or less what she’s got to look forward to with him, she steels herself instead because he’s taking for granted that she’s got an advantage now; she knows him. Whether he likes it or not.

And sure, she doesn’t expect him to just forgive her–he most definitely won’t make it easy, but at least now she’ll see him coming, and that could only count in her favor. 


	2. I mean like a goddamn marching band

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So here's a long ass second part where Beth shows Rio what she's been up to while he's been gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I was watching Molly's Game and then this happened. TBH I pulled half of this out of my ass and there's very little proofreading put into it, so I hope you're feeling brave.

“What is this?” 

Frowning, Beth looks from the two stacks of cash she’s just placed on the kitchen counter to the confused faces of Annie and Ruby. The kids can be heard playing out in the treehouse, but other than that, there’s no contributing explanation as to why the perfectly fine stack of money is still sitting on the counter and not in their purses.

“It’s your cut,” Beth replies. 

“That,” Annie says, pointing at the cash, “is a fat stack I don’t remember washing. Do you remember washing this, Ruby?” 

“No, Annie. Actually, I don’t.” 

“Come on, guys. You deserve this. What’s more, you need it. Think of it as a bonus!” 

Ruby doesn’t seem too pleased with this explanation and her stack remains untouched, while Annie shrugs and stuffs her take in her purse. 

“Sounds legit enough to me.” 

“Not to me,” Ruby snaps, her eyes never leaving Beth’s. “Where did you get this money?” 

“We washed it!” 

“Who’s we?  _ We _ didn’t wash this cash.” 

“Me and Rosie.” 

“Oh,” Ruby leans back a little with a smirk that isn’t at all mirthful. “So you and your girlfriend are running around behind our backs like you’re in  _ Ocean’s Eleven _ or something and we’re just supposed to take the money and not ask any questions?” 

“ _ Ocean’s 8 _ ,” Annie corrects. 

“What?” 

“ _ Ocean’s Eleven _ is the one with all the guys,  _ Ocean’s 8 _ is the gay one with all the women.” 

Ruby just holds a hand up to silence her, eyes trained on Beth. 

“What have you been up to with this woman?” 

“I--” Beth considers spilling everything. About her all-nighters in hotel suites, and their new business ventures thanks to some lessons in money management from wealthy attendants--about Rio. And about all the money currently sitting in her brand new safe in her closet back at the apartment. But she can’t imagine Ruby’s opinion of Rosie would change if Beth told her everything too soon. “--I’m sorry, I can’t tell you yet.”

Ruby’s reaction, which at the moment reflects a painful mixture of hurt and disappointment, makes Beth die a little inside. 

“Right.”

“I swear, this is for all of us. I will tell you soon, you just have to give me a little time. Just trust me.” 

“Trust you?” Ruby scoffs. “You mean like you trust  _ us _ ?” 

“It’s not like that.”

“No? What’s it like, then?” 

“I--”

“Okay.” 

Ruby picks up her keys and leaves. 

When Beth looks over at her, Annie’s looking at her like she’s dying to say something she doesn't dare to.

“Just say it.” 

“Beth--whatever it is you’re keeping secret--I just hope you’re being careful.”

“That’s exactly why I can’t tell you yet. Because I’m being careful. I just” 

There’s a pause. 

“Okay.” Annie lifts her purse a little as she goes. “Thanks for this. Sadie’s going to be psyched.”

Beth nods and watches her leave before her eyes land upon Ruby’s money. There’s a pang of loss which she hopes is only temporary. For a moment, she doubts herself, doubts the strides she’s made for them all, because she’s doing it for everyone. The secret nights with Rosie, and the secret investments--her little encounter with Rio two weeks ago. God, what is she going to do about that? It would be so much easier to purge him out of her system if only she didn’t have to see him.

“Is that for me?” 

Beth jumps, startled as she turns in time to see Rio stroll right into her kitchen. Clutching her chest, she steals a glance at the kids, still playing, before exhaling. God, he must have missed Annie by an inch. 

“Jesus, what are you doing here?” 

Walking right up to the counter where he can reach the neatly stacked bills, he shrugs nonchalantly, “Just passing through. Thought I’d check in on my investment.”

“What investment?” 

“Oh, this one,” he lifts a bundle and thumbs through it. “Not the amount that we talked about, but it’ll do for now.” 

He meets her stare from across the counter as he pockets the money. 

Beth is seething, but refuses to let him see it. That’s exactly what he wants. She can almost taste the poison in his intent and that should be enough to make her recoil, except when his gaze drops to her chest then flickers up her neck with that little smirk that tells her he has not forgotten about the other night--it makes her feel embarrassed–and turned on. And  _ that _ pisses her off.

_ What is wrong with her? _

“I told you I had your money. Why didn’t you just take it?” 

“Oh, don’t you worry. I will. Just make sure to have some lying around on the regular ‘cause you never know when I might drop by, yeah?” 

“No,” she replies quickly. 

“I’m sorry?” 

“I said no.”

Rio’s jaw rocks back and forth like he’s contemplating shooting her, his tone stern when he says, “Try again, Elizabeth.” 

And she hates the way her breath hitches at the sound of her name on his lips. It’s been so long. 

The sound of the children in the yard startles her out of it and it steels her. 

“Let’s discuss this later.”

“Oh, my bad, Miss Boland, is this not a good time for you? Should I have made an appointment.” 

“Rio,” she sighs, pinches the ridge of her nose and blurts out the first thing she can think of. “Look, I’m not washing cash anymore.

“Liar.” 

“Well--I don’t  _ just _ wash cash. We’ve branched out a little bit and made a few investments.”

“Great, you’re going to need the extra income. What’s the new business?” 

“I can’t really talk about it. I don’t--I’m still working it out. I swear I’m not lying. Look, do you play poker?” 

“Poker,” he deadpans.

“Yes, I--there’s a fifty thousand buy-in, on my of course. You can come as my guest. Meet me in the lobby of the Shonola Hotel at 9:30. You can play a few games if you want; see what we’re doing, and then you can decide if you want to hear me out or not.” 

“You know this isn’t business as usual, right?” 

There’s a loaded silence and she nods. 

“I know. And I know how stupid this sounds, but just trust me.” 

They stare at each other in silence and Beth can’t help but feel the dread of what she almost did all those months ago sink in. One well calculated aim and he wouldn’t be standing here, threatening her future. She can’t decide if she’s relieved or disappointed. 

“9:30,” she repeats, just to fill the silence, and he turns towards the front door. 

“I’ll be there at 10.” 

The front door opens and shuts and Beth sighs up at the ceiling. 

  
  


****

  
  


“So, they’re not happy about it,” Rosie shrugs, and then takes a swig of her beer. “What did you think they were going to say? When you’re over here being their sugar daddy.”

There’s a bit of a crowd at the hotel bar tonight, but the far end of the bar offers enough privacy. 

Beth flails a little, giving the bartender a quick “thank you” as he sets her drink down.

“That’s not--I thought they’d be happy to get some money they didn’t have to steal.” 

“You should have asked first.”

Beth’s brow furrows. “Whose side are you on?”

Rosie laughs. “Yours, but I’m just saying--it’s your sister and your best friend who, for all intents and purposes, might as well be your wife, and now I’m the slutty yoga instructor you’re having an affair with.” 

“We went to yoga together  once . You made it halfway and then just stayed in corpse pose for a half hour.” 

“The point is that I get why they’re upset. I would have liked to have been asked too. That’s all.”

Beth stares. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.” 

“Of course I’m right.” 

“You really think you could land me?” 

“Pft. You’d be so into me. You’re into me right now. In this dress?”

“You’re right. It’s difficult, keeping my hands to myself right now.” 

“I can tell.” 

They share a laugh and sip from their respective drinks. After a moment, Rosie speaks first. 

“You nervous?” 

“No,” Beth answers quickly. Then, “Yes. A little.” 

“You think your boy’s going to play ball?

“He’s not my--I honestly have no idea.”

Just then, Rosie’s face shifts as she spots something of interest behind Beth. 

“Oh, hello.” 

“What?” 

Beth turns in her seat, and she almost forgets why they’re here when she sees Rio approaching from the entrance. 

He’s in a suit. A nice one. A sleek dark suit paired with a long overcoat ,and dress shoes that look altogether too expensive. The way he saunters across the large room with a hand in his pocket with far too much confidence for Beth’s comfort--well, it makes her warm all over and she has to return her attention to her drink, knocking the entirety of it back. 

“What?” Rosie asks, watching her curiously. 

“That’s him.” 

“ _ That’s _ him?” She gasps and then gives Beth a scandalized look. “Okay. I get it now.”

“Stop it.” 

“What!” 

“Stop it, stop looking like that?”

“Like what?” 

Rosie’s still laughing when Beth feels Rio comes to stop beside her.

“Ladies,” he greets cooly. 

“Hey,” Beth says without looking up at him, instead focusing on the ice in her glass and the rising buzz from drinking too quickly. Out of the corner of her eye she sees him reach out a gloved hand, the brown leather taut over his knuckles as he shake Rosie’s hand. 

It makes Beth think of the way he touches her–grabs her, really, like he’s taking ownership. She allows herself one sliver of memory of it as Rosie explains the situation; that the host is an old friend and colleague, and that they’re here to network. She goes over The buy-in, and list of guests, pointing out the regulars they’ve already established a rapport with. 

“Why are you networking with a bunch of suits? They’ll turn on you the second shit hits the fan.”

“Not these guys,” Beth answer casually over her shoulder, maintaining her view of Rio peripheral. “We’ve put in a lot of time. They get chatty after a few highballs. Get a couple of bumps in them and you might as well be in a confessional. Half of these guys are having affairs they don’t want out. Some of them are gay and the others are sleeping with women young enough to royally piss off their wives into divorcing them and taking everything.” 

“And the other half?” His voice is low enough and close enough that she can feel the timbre of it. 

She licks her lips before continuing. “Your run of the mill money laundering, accounts overseas, good with money.” 

He nods and Beth makes sure to turn in her seat to face him. She clocks the way his eyes briefly drop to the slit on her dress, fully exposing her thigh the way she’s got her legs crossed. She doesn’t miss the quirk of his lips at one corner. 

“So, what? You working on a retirement plan in the Cayman Islands or something?” 

“Not exactly,” Beth replies. “Couple of guys dabble in development.”

“Gentrifiers?”

Beth nods. 

“You’d be surprised how easy it is to get them to fork over information on potential targets after you spend the night coddling them.” 

“We’ve made offers on a couple of small businesses already,” Rosie adds. “We pay their property taxes, their mortgages, renovations, repairs, etcetera, as silent partners--”

“How silent?” 

“As a church mouse. We keep them afloat in up and coming neighborhoods, and they wash cash for us.”

“How long til you see a profit though?” 

“You’ve got to invest money to make money,” Rosie answers. 

“You got that kind of capital?” 

“That’s why we’re here,” Beth responds. “Not only are they chatty, but they’re also very generous with their tips.” 

“And what are you bringing to the table to get a cut?” 

Beth smiles then. “Good company, great conversation–and party favors.” 

She sees it, the moment he’s got it all down. He’s impressed. And she hates how that makes her heart skip a beat. How it makes her feel proud, like she’s accomplished something.

“So what do you think?” Rosie asks, cutting through the tension. “Want to stay for a demo?” 

Rio shrugs. “Why not.” 

He motions with his arm and Rosie leads the way. When Beth hops off her seat, she can almost feel his hand on the small of her back, hovering just short of touching her and she has to remind herself to breathe. 

By the time they make it to the elevator, Rosie’s holding the door open for them and Beth pushes the button for the top floor, mindlessly fidgeting with the knot on her coat, trying to ignore when Rio’s shoulder brushes against hers. 

“So why not just do  this then?” He asks suddenly, filling the small compartment with sound. “Seems like you’re making enough.” 

“It’s short term,” Rosie answers. “We’re looking for production. Games aren’t all that viable unless you’re hosting. And hosting gets old.”

They arrive at the penthouse floor then, and again Rosie leads, Rio staying close behind Beth, so close they might as well be side by side, and she can feel him steal glances at her. She has no idea what to make of it but her body reacts to him regardless and when they reach the double doors she could swear their hands brush, if only for the briefest of seconds. 

He must be consciously fucking with her, there’s no other reason for it. 

A gorgeous tall blonde, Sandy, opens the door and greets both Rosie and Beth with air kisses on either cheek, shaking Rio’s hand and then taking his coat and gloves when they’re introduced, welcoming him warmly. 

Rosie is greeting the few guests already there when Beth shrugs off her coat to hand to Sandy, and she stops short when she turns to find Rio watching her–staring really, at her dress. It’s a strappy black dress with a sweetheart neckline she hasn’t worn before–it’s best not to repeat outfits at these things–and she’s still getting used to moving around in it. It’s fitted and cut down to mid back; not too scandalous in the front, but any neckline will give way to scandal with her particular attributes and she can feel him scan her down, from shoulders to mid-calf hemline.

She meets his gaze on the way back up and just like that, it’s as if he’s remembered everything and there’s a hardness in his eyes that both saddens and angers her, because they wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t--well. It doesn't matter now. It’s where they are.

Beth blinks and reaches out to Sandy, who’s just taken her coat and purse, touching her forearm as they lean into each other so Beth can speak quietly. 

“Stuff’s in my bag. There’s an envelope too. Little tip for you, okay?” She winks and Sandy gives her a proper kiss on the cheek then, along with an earnest “thank you”. 

“Can I get you anything?” Sandy asks her. “Drink?” 

“Not yet, thanks. But, uh, my friend over here--” she leads her toward Rio, who smiles politely. “--is new. I’d appreciate it if you got him some of that really great tequila we tried last week.”

“Oh, of course!” Sandy flashes Rio a big smile, tells him she’ll be back with his drink and then she’s gone. 

He takes a step towards Beth and makes quick work of scanning her face. 

“Giving out fat tips to waitresses, rolling up like a gangster,” He clicks his tongue to his teeth, huffs out a little laugh as he scratches his cheek. “Business must be  _ real _ good.”

“It’s getting there,” she tells him.

“Yeah? Which one? The fake cash or the drugs you just handed over?” 

“It’s just cocaine. And it’s not part of the business. Just a little something to keep them up if they want it. They like it.” 

“Hmm.”

He’s being civil now, but she knows that’s just for the public and he’s really calculating how much he’ll be able to squeeze from her later. She almost gives into his intimation tactics, the way he stands too close and appears to be dissecting her with his eyes, trying to get under her skin. But they’re on her turf now, and she’s got work to do, so she gives him a tight-lipped smile as she spots their hostess, for whom Beth has an earnest smile reserved. 

“Lilith!”

A tall raven-haired woman in a mustard yellow dress walks over from across the suite and immediately greets Beth with the customary double kiss. 

“Hi, darling. You’re a vision as always.” Her English accent is prominent; Beth is still not used to it. The cadence of it always makes her smile more than she intends. 

“Thank you. You look beautiful.”

“Oh, you’re sweet. I haven’t slept in 48 hours. Who’s this?” Turning to Rio, she eyes him suspiciously and Beth isn’t surprised to note that Lillith might be the one woman immune to Rio’s go-given charm. It could be they’re so much alike that it almost cancel itself out. 

“This is Rio. My business partner. Rio, this is Lilith. This is her game.” 

He gives Beth a look at the term ‘partner’ but she’s quick enough to dodge it. 

“Yes, I hear you’re giving us a little look-see,” Lillith says, firmly shaking Rio’s hand

“Something like that.” 

“Well, I do hope we satisfy your vetting process.” It’s dry enough that it could pass for insincere, Lilith’s tone, and it is likely insincere, but she pats Rio’s shoulder anyway and finally offers him a tepid smile. “Do enjoy yourself.” 

She turns to leave, but not before leaning in close to Beth, hand lightly on her hip as she softly says, “You really do look ravishing. Do call me when you finally give up on men.” 

Beth laughs, but she’s blushing furiously, flattered and a little embarrassed. She can barely meet Rio’s unimpressed glare as she vaguely excuses herself to go talk to someone who’s just walked in.

Rio settles in soon thereafter, standing near the bar for a while, watching Beth chat with one guy, then another; a hedge funder and someone new in finance. She’d like to say it’s productive but he’s distracting her.

He watches her all night, switching over to cappuccinos after one or two drinks, leaning against the bar, or sitting on the plush leather couch, having his own conversation with Sandy or whatever player has just been cleaned out. 

They cash out at four in the morning and despite Beth’s mind being elsewhere all night, they rake up 60 grand between them. 

On the elevator ride back down to the lobby, Rosie talks Rio’s ear off about profits and margins and things Beth has stopped listening to. She’s anxious to know what he’s thinking--to know if he’s going to follow her lead on this, or if he’s going to continue on his crusade to torture her into submission. 

He’s responding to Rosie, asking questions and nodding at the answers, but he’s not saying much that is definitive, and Beth knows he’s saving it for when they’re alone. 

Rosie senses as much too. When the valet shows up with Beth’s SUV, another car pulls up behind it, the pink Lyft sign shining on the dashboard.

“You called a Lyft?” Beth asks her. 

“Yeah. I figured I’d give you two time to talk.” Beth gives her a look and at this Rosie adds, “About business. Call me.”

She waves goodbye to Rio as she climbs in the backseat. “Nice meeting you!” 

“Yeah, you too,” Rio says, sidling up to Beth, hands deep in his coat pockets. 

When she turns to face him, she’s not sure what to do. That peculiar late night/early morning crispness is in the air--it always has a way of throwing her off kilter some. 

“Do you–can we talk?” 

He stares for a while, studying her until finally nodding. “Your place?” 

She nods. 

“The apartment. Not the house.” 

“Cool. Go. I’ll catch up.” 

“Okay.”

She sees him hand the valet his ticket in the rearview mirror as she pulls away, hands straining around the steering wheel, relinquishing control of her nerves for a moment against the protesting leather. 

He must be a ways behind her; he doesn’t catch up to her on the road and this gives her time to put on a pot of coffee and, she thinks, to change out of her dress. Except her doorbell rings the moment she’s peeled it off and so she quickly grabs her robe. A red one with a wild floral pattern. She pads barefoot across the living room, checks the peephole and then pulls the door open.

Rio appears amused by her sudden costume change as she lets him in and leads him into the small kitchen. 

“Would you like some coffee? Should be done in a second.”

“Sure,” he says, deliberately avoiding the kitchen table in favor of pacing around the living room, looking at the framed pictures of the kids. While he does that, Beth turns to watch the last of the coffee drip into the pot, securing the knot on her robe and feeling suddenly very exposed.

“You got a timeshare with car man or something?” 

His voice startles her. She doesn't know why, but it does. It could be the late hour, or the lack of sleep making her more alert than normal. 

She smiles to disguise it. 

“Yeah, sort of. We split our time with the kids. It’s easier than moving them around from one place to another.”

Rio nods. 

Beth turns to grab two mugs from the dish rack, making quick work of filling them up and then bringing them over to the kitchen table where she pulls back a chair to take a seat. She holds a mug in both hands, letting the heat ground her. 

Finally, once he’s satisfied with his inspection, Rio shrugs his coat off and drapes it over the back of the chair opposite Beth before sitting in it. His gloves are gone, she notes–-must have left them in the car. 

“So,” He starts once he’s taken a sip of coffee. “That’s how you want to make my money back, huh?” 

She blinks. 

“What?” 

“I admit I didn’t know what to expect going in there, but you got yourself a nice little side hustle.” 

“It’s not a side hustle,” she fumes. “I’ve worked hard on this. Without you by the way.” 

“Yeah, you made sure of that, didn’t you?” 

She leans forward at that, mouth agape. “You--” 

Her fingers curl against the table, into a tight fist as she reels her emotions back, allowing them to settle into something manageable before speaking again, slowly so he understands. 

“I have your money. Twice what we owe you. You can take it, and walk away–you’d never have to see me again. And if you’re still feeling the itch to get revenge, you can shoot me if you want. An arm, a leg, a shoulder, your pick. Or you can stick around and partner up with me. I have no problem with that. Hell, I’d be stupid to pass on your expertise. I also have a team to put together so if you can spare a few of your guys who won’t mind answering to women, that would be great too. But I’m done working for you. Or anybody.” 

There’s a silence that stretches out. 

“It’s a good plan and you know it. And that’s only part of it.” 

Rio bites his cheek, nostrils flaring, clearly clutching at the ledge of his patience.

“Oh yeah? What’s the other part?” 

“Need to know only,” she asserts, and she feels good about it, about knowing she’s got more control over this for once. 

She can tell she’s really testing his patience, but she can’t give in to him so easily. Still she knows he won’t budge either and so she takes a deep breath, fortifying herself with a large gulp of coffee before sitting back comfortably. 

“We have four small businesses in our pocket right now,” she adds. “One Deli, two dry cleaners, and a pet grooming place. All locals who have been there forever and not so much as a parking ticket between them. After a little spruce-up, two have already started turning a profit. Enough for a down payment on a small business of our own.”

“What kind of business?” 

“A daycare.” She gives him a smile, which she maintains even when he straight up scoffs at that. 

“You expect to wash cash through a daycare?” 

“No, there’s no cash involved in the daycare whatsoever. We don’t even have a cash register, we use one of those little blocks you attach to your ipad. The daycare isn’t for washing cash. It’s for printing it.” 

He’s still pissed, but at least he seems to consider it and she knows she’s got him. 

“We’re going live with it soon, but we could use the extra hands.”

“You using the old money?”

“Nope. All new product. New equipment. It’s not quite as big a production as what you had, but it can be.” 

“You got real balls, mami.” 

_ Here we go _ , she thinks. 

“How’d you think this little pitch of yours was going to go, huh? You thought we were gonna shake on it, you’d bat your little lashes and we’d be all good? Nah, baby, that’s not how it works.” 

“So how does it work then? Huh? How long do you see this going for? A year? Ten?”

“Should have thought of that before you shot that gun, sweetheart.” 

“You should have thought of that before you had me kidnapped in the middle of the night, then dragged to your loft,” she snaps. “All so you could prove, what exactly? What did you really expect would come of killing Turner?”

“A thank you would have sufficed,” he gruffs. 

She pauses then, shaking her head before continuing as calmly as she can muster, “I had it under control.”

“Yeah? For how long? Turner had it out for you and you fucked up your only chance to take him out.” 

She wants to call bullshit, to bring up the conveniently placed cameras, how he could have taken care of Turner himself if he really thought he was that big of a threat. But she’s tired. And Rio is stubborn.

“I’ve had nightmares since that night,” she confesses instead. “A lot of it sticks, you know? The blood, the--smell of it, the recoil of the gun. Thinking you’ve killed someone can really fuck you up. And then when it’s not that, do you know what comes back the hardest?”

He gives no indication that his mood has changed save for the silence and so she continues.

“How scared I was of you. I don’t know what lesson you thought you were teaching me that night but of all the things I expected of you, you hurting me had been crossed out of the list a long time ago. I didn’t shoot you because I wanted to. You put us in that situation.”

She wipes a stray tear from her cheek.

“But you know what? Nourish your grudge for however long you think you need to. I’m done doing this with you, though.” She swiftly stands up and heads toward the bedroom, not bothering to look back as she tells him, “I’ll get your money.”

She swipes under her eyes once more and sniffs a little as she kneels beside the bed to pull a small duffel from underneath it. When she stands, she’s surprised to see him there. 

“Jesus,” she gasps. 

When he doesn’t reply, she steps forward, holding the duffel out for him to take but he just stands there, looking at her, totally unreadable until he steps toward her, just a hair’s breadth away, crowding her, clouding her judgement. 

His hand grazes hers as he takes the duffel, then promptly drops it on the floor before he’s reaching up and brushing her hair back, and she’s so taken aback by it that she closes her eyes. She has no chance to open them again before his lips are on hers, soft at first, almost tentative as her arms circle his neck. 

She exhales sharply through her nose when his tongue grazes hers, and a soft moan follows when he pulls her close, hands steering her backward until her ass hits the edge of the small dresser where Dean keeps most of his clothes. 

Rio’s hand slips under Beth’s robe, a hand gliding up her thigh until it meets with her underwear, and she gasps when he carefully traces her slit through the lacy barrier. Her glasses and other tchotchkes fall to the floor as she fully leans back against the dresser, her palm coming down to grip the edge as she scoots back, one foot coming off the ground to give his hand better access. 

The strokes are almost too soft, not enough friction for what she needs, and so she angles her hips forward and upwards, but he’s deliberate and so he hooks his finger a little, pushing the fabric of her briefs along with it, the embroidered design adding a welcome roughness that makes her shiver and angle for more, and that’s when he unexpectedly flattens his palm down and grinds it against her pussy. 

Beth moans at that, hand flying to grip his shoulder while the other remains planted firmly on the dresser.

His breath is almost as heavy as hers, eyes on her lips as if he’s testing his endurance and by extension hers. 

She’s grinding shamelessly against his palm now, searching for release he’s keeping just out of reach–he finds her clit, not really pressing but circling against the underwear which are now soaked through, and she could scream the way he keeps pulling her toward release and then denying it. 

Her robe falls off at the shoulder then and she catches him watching its descent before he latches his mouth onto the swell of her breast, biting down, then sucking as his finger finds it’s way inside her, this time having slipped under the lace. She gasps at that, the hand that had gripped the dresser coming to hold him in place at the wrist.

He adds a second finger and Beth groans loudly, throwing her head back as he fucks her, his long fingers pumping deep and hard, and then his lips are wrapped around her nipple and she’s gasping, her body stilling and then shaking, her pussy milking his fingers as he continues fucking her, keeping a steady enough wrhythm as he swipes his thumb around her clit. She’s coming again, harder this time, her nails digging into his arm as she moans uncontrollably through the relentless friction, the tiny quakes that keep coming. It takes her a moment to register his voice, whispering filthy words of encouragement, panting, telling her how good she feels, how he wants to fuck her.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” she curses into his shoulder, pushing his hand out from between her legs, holding onto him through the aftershocks of it. She’s not sure she can move, let alone speak for a moment so she lingers there, smelling him, feeling him, and right then, for just that singular moment, she allows herself to be blissfully happy to see him, to feel him, and know for a fact he’s breathing. 

Somewhere between her release and catching her breath, she finds his lips, kissing him languidly, leisurely, taking the time to slowly build up that inner frenzy that inspires her to pull his tie off. They both take on the buttons of his shirt before she reaches his belt, sliding off the dresser.

Beth guides Rio toward the bed, making quick work of pushing his pants and underwear down before she pushes him to sit and he’s pulling her onto his lap. 

There’s a moment when she’s kneeling astride him, where he lets her kiss his cheeks, touch his face–when she runs her palm across his forehead, that it feels like being in her bedroom before they fucked everything up, when she’d forgotten she was saying goodbye those precious hours they had together and it felt like it was working, like they’d be fine as long as they stayed in her bedroom. But now, as she traces the line of his jaw and the swell of his bottom lip, she’s not so sure what they’re doing; if this is an apology or just another detour. She just knows they couldn’t stop if they wanted to.

One of these days they’re going to have to talk about it, these--feelings. The prospect fills her with panic, and he must sense it because he sucks her thumb into his mouth, and she smiles when he bites down gently before turning his lips into her palm, kissing her there before finding her mouth again. 

Her robe is the last to go as she sinks onto him, first rocking slowly, setting a pace that doesn’t stay slow or steady for long as she pushes him flat on his back, hand on his chest as he grips her hips firmly, fucking up into her as she meets his efforts in kind, rolling her hips a little and contracting around him, smiling when the action makes him groan gutturally, making his hips jut up sharply. 

She leans forward then, hand gliding up his chest, finding the scars she left along the way before reaching his neck. She tests their boundaries, giving his throat a little squeeze and feeling his heartbeat drum against her index finger. She gives it another as she bears down with her hips and contracts around him again, keeping a firm vice until they both groan at the overwhelming sensation.

She wants to ask him where he’s been all this time, and if he received proper care--if it still hurts. Instead, she gives his throat another, lasting squeeze and watches his face as he gives into it with a series of grunts and sharp thrusts that give way to another orgasm that leaves her draped over Rio’s chest, both panting--a little sweaty. 

As she rolls over moments later and they all but drag themselves up the bed, Beth brushes the hair out of her face and sighs before folding the comforter over their naked bodies. Her voice has rasp when she speaks that she can only blame on exhaustion. 

“Normal people don’t do this,” she mumbles. “They don’t--shove guns in each other’s faces, they don’t shoot each other, they don’t fuck first and talk later.” 

She hears him exhale through his nose, his voice just as thick with exhaustion as hers. 

“You’re well beyond getting back to any type of normal, sweetheart. About time you realized that.”

“Do you hate me?” She asks, and he’s quiet so long that she doesn't expect he’ll answer her at all, but he does eventually. 

“No. You hate me?”

_ I hate us both _ , she wants to say. But instead, she replies, “No.” 

Minutes later, when the sun is showing its first signs and Beth is drifting off to sleep, Rio mumbles sleepily, “Is five or six guys good for what you need?” 

Finally closing her eyes, Beth smiles and replies, “Yes.” 

  
  


_ Six weeks later _

Beth pulls up to the still empty parking lot and shuts off the engine, undoes her seatbelt and then shifts in her seat where she can face Ruby and get a good enough look at Annie who’s sitting in the backseat, confused. 

“What are we doing here?” 

“Remember when I told you I was working on something with Rosie? That I’d tell you about it soon?” 

“Yeah…” 

“Well, it’s time! We’re here!” 

Ruby and Annie look around them, at the line of businesses, still closed at 7 am. 

“We’re where?” Ruby asks. 

“I explained about the local businesses and all of that, right? Well, we need our own investment, a good one no one would think twice about.” 

She gestures ahead and Ruby looks just as confused as Annie. 

“ _ The Itty Bitty Kiddie Committee _ ?” 

Nodding, Beth smiles and then pushes her door open. “Come on, I’ll show you.” 

“What do you think of the font?” She asks, pointing at the pretty pink and green lettering above the corner unit in a lot of four other businesses. 

“Cute,” Ruby answers dryly. “Did you buy a Daycare?” 

“ _ We _ bought a daycare.” 

It’s bright and colorful inside, there are tiny tables and chairs neatly organized; there’s an alphabet rug in a corner, cut out like a jigsaw puzzle, and a small reading corner with bean bag chairs and a myriad of kid-sized and kid-oriented things that for all intents and purposes serve as a pretty apt daycare. 

“You can’t wash cash at a Daycare, B.” 

“I know. That’s the whole point. It’s conveniently located in the middle of three school districts, which means, business will always be booming. We already have a waiting list, and the best part is, it’s a legitimate business, with a real loan I got from a  _ real _ bank for a downpayment.”

“What bank gave  you a loan?” Annie asks, then holds her hands up. “No offense, but you have zero credit, Beth.” 

“The beauty of having zero credit is the blank slate. You can easily fill it up with a credit card. Banks love new blood.” 

“So you’re going to be running a daycare during the day and washing cash at night?” Ruby asks. “How does that work?” 

“Well, I’m not--really running it.” 

A backdoor opens and Tyler strolls out carrying a box overfilled with books and toys, smile only growing wider when he spots the new arrivals. 

“Oh, hi Mrs. B. I didn’t know you were coming by today.” 

“Is  _ this _ your new job?” Annie asks, “You could have mentioned you were leaving Fine N’ Frugal to work for my sister, dude.” 

“Oh, I didn’t know at first--”

“Did you know Tyler has a BA in child development? He put together a wonderful curriculum.” Beth says, placing her hand on Tyler’s shoulder, who only puffs his chest out proudly. 

“It’s a montessori-based curriculum. We encourage free play and creativity.”

Ruby still looks confused, and Annie looks downright flabbergasted. 

“Well, I'm going to finish up before first drop-offs.” 

“Yeah, go ahead.” Beth points at the door Tyler just emerged from. “You guys ready for the big finale?” 

“I don’t--know,” Ruby wearily replies, as Annie clutches her arm. 

“I’m scared…” 

Through the door is a small room Beth calls the “Educators’ Lounge”. There’s a kitchen, a desk with a Mac desktop, a sitting area, and even a television.

“This is nicer than my apartment,” Annie notes. 

“Let me show you the storage room.” 

Beth leads them through to a small room filled with neatly organized supplies, making sure they’re all inside before closing the door and squeezing between them to the far wall where she moves some boxes aside to reveal a door she swiftly opens up to a basement-type area. 

As they tentatively follow, Annie whispers, “I swear to god, if she’s found a portal to the upside down…”

“Holy shit,” Ruby says when they reach the bottom of the stairs.

Somewhere in the back of her mind is the memory of first walking into Rio’s operation and Beth feels a sense of pride at that. Theirs is on a much smaller scale, definitely not enough equipment to fill a warehouse, but it’s enough to employ a full team, and Beth finds herself suddenly taken aback at the stillness of it all, waiting, humming to stir into action. 

“Walls are soundproof,” she explains, walking them through. “We’ve got printers, washing stations, drying racks, testing station over there--Rosie got her hands on some fancy underground software in the dark web that corrects the tiniest of flaws, and we’re fully digital now.” 

In the sectioned printing area, Beth stops at the first of 5 large printers. “See this? This is a $28,000 printing press. We have five. And over there--” Rosie emerges from where Beth is pointing in the back.

“Hey! Management is here!” 

“What is she talking about?” Ruby asks. 

“Come on.” 

Beth leads them toward the last room, which is an office furnished with three desks and expensive looking leather sofas. There are monitors, which Annie and Ruby take their time inspecting. The parking lot, the roof, the loading docks of the other businesses–the entire perimeter of the building is visible, in addition to the daycare area, where Tyler is welcoming in the morning arrivals.

“Who ARE you?” Annie asks, face alight with glee. 

“Are you impressed?” 

“Yeah, I’m impressed!” 

Beth laughs at that, letting Annie look around as she turns toward Ruby. “This is our office. We’ll be running things from here.” 

Ruby blinks a few times, giving the room another once over. “I am--this is what you’ve been up to? Where did you get this kind of money?”

“Let’s save that for drinks tonight, okay?” 

Ruby isn’t convinced. 

Beth laughs. “Just trust me! For once I can tell you with the utmost certainty that everything is fine. But you have to give Rosie a chance. This wouldn’t have been possible without her.” 

“Fine,” she sighs. “But I’m still going to be cautious about it.” 

“Fine.” 

“Yo!” Darren bursts through the door, backpack over his shoulder, heading straight toward Annie. “I heard the boss was here!” 

“Darren, my man!” Annie exclaims. “What are you doing here? I thought you were at Harvard or Yale or one of those.” 

“Berkeley,” he clarifies. “Decided to take a year off. The job market is ultra competitive, even for college grads, and your sister offered a pretty good salary in exchange for my services, so I thought, why not get me a little nest egg to cushion the blow of modern capitalism. You know?”

“Totally.” 

“Beats any paid internship.” 

“Can we afford all of this?” Ruby asks and Beth nods. 

“Yes. But we need to stay organized, and I don’t trust anyone else to help me manage the books, so–I know you wanted to get out. It was risky before. That’s why I wanted to make sure everything was foolproof before I brought you in. It was never my intention to push you out. I hope you know that.” 

Beth takes Ruby's hand and gives it a little squeeze. 

“I know.” 

“Hate you.” 

“Hate your face.” 

“Oh, my god get a room,” Annie groans behind them. “Which one’s my desk? Can we get a minibar in here?” 

“Just so we’re clear,” Ruby starts, ignoring Annie. “That’s the absolute last of the secrets, right?” 

Beth’s mouth opens and shuts. “I mean, generally speaking y--yes. There’s just one more teensy one.” 

“Spit it out.”

“It’s actually kind of a funny story. You’re going to laugh. Um, remember Rio?”


End file.
